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teacher poem

je me tiens par temps gris froid
un orage monte sur la marée
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
tressé et tissé
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
il était un jeune oysterman grand

 



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